


acts of reluctant intimacy

by brawlite



Series: we will be dangerous acquaintances with a history [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Autumn, M/M, Soft Kylux, Trans Hux, Trans Male Character, also maybe hux likes the distraction, but definitely so is kylo, hux is still an asshole, my first attempt at soft kylux, poor hux just wants to get his work done but kylo will not leave him alone, star wars exists in this universe and of course kylo loves it, this is going to be a part of a larger series of quiet moments, this is very moment in time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8272372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brawlite/pseuds/brawlite
Summary: Ren lifts his legs up onto a nearby  chair, elevating them from the ground. He looks so relaxed, back lengthy and stretched out in the soft grass, feet crossed up on the chair -- like he’s at home, lounging around in his own space -- not in the middle of the quad, with an arm curled behind his head for a pillow.
  The crisp autumn breeze drifts over them, ruffling Ren’s hair, making him close his eyes against the faint wind. His eyelashes are dark and long, and they flutter over his mole-dotted cheeks. Sprawled out and reclining like this, Hux can’t help but think of Ren as a Titian, a Manet. It’s absolutely absurd.Hux has reading to do -- but at this point, he can’t even remember what subject it was for.





	

_"Soon we will be strangers. No, we can never be that. Hurting someone is an act of reluctant intimacy. We will be dangerous acquaintances with a history."_  
—Hanif Kureishi, Intimacy: das Buch zum Film von Patrice Chérea

\--

Hux settles himself into an adirondack chair on the quad, legs tucked up neatly underneath him. Sometimes he doesn’t bother to sprawl, to take up as much space as possible; sometimes, it’s far more comfortable and familiar to fold himself into a small space, to give into the way his body so easily compacts itself. His limbs are long and lanky, but thin and sinewy, and he occasionally has to fight the feeling of being _awkward and gangly_ like a preteen when he’s surrounded by college-aged men, scruffy and muscular and huge, wherever he goes.

The day is beautiful: perfect weather and not a cloud in the sky. The autumn breeze has a bite to it that nips through Hux’s flannel shirt, reminding him that colder weather is looming just over the horizon. The leaves are starting to turn, the early ones falling lazily from the trees to dot the sidewalks and grassy spaces with spots of color.

Hux pulls his computer from his bag, balances it on the flat arm of the chair, and turns it on. He has a few articles to read and he prefers reading them outside when the weather is nice, to lurking in the stuffy library in a corner somewhere. The feel of the breeze and the smell of autumn is far preferable to trying to tune out hushed whispers from the next study alcove over in an artificially fluorescent-lit space.

An alert pops up to the side of his screen signaling a new message. Likely from Phasma or Ren, both unimportant if he is attempting to get work done -- but also potentially from a classmate from one of his current group projects. He clicks, and the message slides across his screen, settling in the upper-left hand corner of the screen.

 **ihearthedarkside** : where r u  
**ihearthedarkside** : hux  
**ihearthedarkside** : ur not in your room where r uuu

Hux sighs. Why would it be anyone important when it could be Kylo Ren? He takes his time rolling his sleeves up over his elbows, because dealing with Ren is always an exercise in patience and restraint -- in every which direction. Sometimes Hux only has to figuratively roll up his sleeves to deal with the mess, but sometimes it is far more literal.

He can already feel himself flushing in annoyance, but he responds anyway. There’s something very non-ignorable about Kylo Ren. Hux tries not to think too much about that or examine it too closely -- it feels like the safest route.

 **GenerallyGinger:** I’m on the quad, Ren. Working.  
**ihearthedarkside** : ur room is absurdly clean. like too clean. serial killer clean  
**GenerallyGinger:** What?  
**GenerallyGinger:** Get out of my room.  
**GenerallyGinger:** That is an absurd invasion of privacy.  
**GenerallyGinger:** How did you even get in there in the first place?  
**ihearthedarkside** : my dad taught me 2 pick locks when i was 5  
**ihearthedarkside** : it was easy ;)

Hux sighs again, trying to maintain some sort of calm. Even breathing helps with the stress management, if only slightly. In fact, he wishes that he could keep sighing for the rest of eternity. Kylo Ren has that sort of effect on people.

 **ihearthedarkside** : dude how did you even get a single???  
**GenerallyGinger:** Likely, it was that I treated the Residence Life staff with respect and courtesy whilst making my arrangements.  
**GenerallyGinger:** Also, perhaps the fact that I did not pitch a fit during the lottery process last year bolstered the odds in my favor.  
**iheartthedarkside:** u heard about that?  
**GenerallyGinger:** That I did.

Hux did not normally enjoy partaking in trite university gossip -- but Ren’s tantrum in the office of Residence Life the previous year had been too legendary to miss. The story had circulated around and through all of Hux’s classes, both entry level and more advanced. Everyone had spoken of a fiery-tempered freshman with a ridiculous name -- _Kyle Ron, Kale Rain, you know that guy Kilo R-something --_ who had practically thrown himself at the feet of the staff after attempting to destroy who knows how much office equipment in a spectacular tantrum. Obviously, the stories were embellished: one version he’d heard had Ren climbing onto the roof of the two-story building and threatening to pitch himself off after a Shakespearean-esque monologue -- like a two story fall would do more than break a few bones and only inconvenience himself.

Then again, now that Hux _knows_ Kylo Ren, that doesn’t sound entirely too far fetched.

He didn’t know Ren at the time of the Residence Life Incident. In fact, when they had first met, Hux didn’t know the man he was meeting was even named _Kylo Ren_ . He had been introduced as _Ben_ and he had given Hux the most impressive stinkface he’d ever seen upon their introduction. Hux would’ve been impressed, had he not been under the distinct impression that Ben hated him upon first sight. It wasn’t exactly an outlier in terms of first impressions, so Hux had never bothered to question it. That is, until Ben had simply started _showing up_ in his life. On the quad, in the cafeteria, while Hux was walking to class -- Ben became a presence. An almost-constant shadow.

At first, Ben didn’t say much. It was hard to overlook his looming presence, hard to not feel immediately like the stranger wasn’t attempting to threaten Hux -- but then he finally started speaking. He never spoke too much, and he put words together in a strange and somehow both poetic and awkward way, but his tone was never malicious, his words were never cruel. Toward Hux, anyway. Ben -- _Kylo Ren_ , Hux later learned he preferred -- does not have much time for other people. He is constantly lashing out at his peers, railing against the system whenever he gets flustered. Now that Hux has known Ren for a few months, his anger at the world around him has seemed to settle into a slow, simmering boil. It’s just ever-present enough to be a fundamental character trait, and somehow not overwhelming enough to be an irreconcilable flaw in an aquaintance.

An acquaintance, of course, because Hux doesn’t have friends. The closest he has is Phasma -- a viking goddess about a head taller than him, with muscles and poise for days -- and even then, Hux would use the term “friend” loosely. They are casually close, but friends are weaknesses. They are exploitable vulnerabilities. Hux hasn’t been thoroughly close to anyone for years.

His laptop screen flashes again to alert Hux to a series of missed messages.

 **iheartthedarkside:** thats rough  
**iheartthedarkside:** but i guess ur still talking to me, so: gr9  
**GenerallyGinger:** For the love of God, Ren. At least attempt to type your words out. This isn’t the early 2000’s -- text speak isn’t actually necessary. I’ve seen you type; I know you’re capable.  
**GenerallyGinger:** Also, kindly get out of my room.  
**GenerallyGinger:** Now. Before I call campus security to forcibly remove you.

The message box goes silent. Hux breathes a genuinely pleasant sigh of relief, and begins reading his articles. It is easy to relax into the activity -- he has always enjoyed reading, losing himself in the pursuit of knowledge. As a child, he used to devour books, simply because doing so was better than living in his own reality. Like most children, he read almost entirely books of fiction in his younger years. But those were always bittersweet -- all of the characters in the books almost always got what they wanted, got to be who they wanted. All the while, Hux was stuck in the boring, dumb present. When Hux was old enough to understand most of the words, he switched to non-fiction. And he never looked back.

Unfortunately, he can only lose himself in the words for so long.

“Hey,” Ren’s voice rumbles from behind him, and the sound of a bag being tossed to the grass rouses Hux fully from his academic pursuits. Christ -- it sounds like Ren has found him, and is now settling in for the long haul. Hux looks up from his reading to confirm his suspicions -- Ren has flopped his hulking body down onto the grass near the feet of Hux’s adirondack chair, and is now stretching out like a cat.

It’s terribly undignified.

Hux can see a generous line of pale skin when Ren over-stretches and his shirt hikes up too far, too much. It’s all Hux can do to tear his eyes from that mole-dotted bit of skin to focus on something else. _Anything_ else.

His eyes settle only a few inches up, unfortunately: “Exactly how many Darth Vader shirts do you own?”

“Six” Ren says with a yawn, “no, wait -- seven.”

Ren stretches again, as if that sort of thing was even necessary, or polite. Or at all good for Hux’s mental health. “You’re a hard man to find, General.”

“My father’s the general, Ren. Not me. I’ve told you that.” And Hux is trying to read, trying to get work done. Not start up a conversation with a boy he has only recently started associating with, who seems to think they are on friendlier terms than they actually are. Hux doesn’t like having people close to him, both physically and theoretically, and Ren seems to gravitate toward him in ways that are decidedly unfamiliar. Well -- no, that’s not quite right. Hux doesn’t hate it. But he typically drives people away from him before they even _get_ the chance to be close, so it’s more an uncomfortable, nervous feeling than anything else.

“You act like it, always barking orders and putting on a stern face.” Ren lifts his legs up onto a nearby  chair, elevating them from the ground. He looks so relaxed, back lengthy and stretched out in the soft grass, feet crossed up on the chair -- like he’s at home, lounging around in his own space -- not in the middle of the quad, with an arm curled behind his head for a pillow.

The crisp autumn breeze drifts over them, ruffling Ren’s hair, making him close his eyes against the faint wind. His eyelashes are dark and long, and they flutter over his mole-dotted cheeks. Sprawled out and reclining like this, Hux can’t help but think of Ren as a Titian, a Manet. It’s absolutely _absurd_.

Hux has _reading_ to do -- but at this point, he can’t even remember what subject it was for.

“Don’t you have homework?” He barks, perhaps proving Ren’s point. Hux doesn’t mind it though, Ren thinking of him as a general. He certainly doesn’t mind the nickname, even though nicknames are childish and inane. The idea that Ren calls him something special, something that no one else does, is shockingly pleasant in a secret, shameful sort of way. Hux doesn’t necessarily like the way it makes his heart flutter in his chest, or the way the tips of his ears turn red whenever Ren says it with a fond voice, but he appreciates being something unique to someone.

But it’s also a lot. It would be far easier to ignore everything, to appreciate the cool, autumn moment, than to start overanalyzing. After all, the second he looks too hard at it, this tentative acquaintanceship, he knows he’s going to start pushing Ren away. It’s a force of his own nature he cannot fight.

He knows he’ll do it. He knows that’s how he works, how his whole family works. It’s in his blood.

It’s best to keep Ren at arms distance, both literally and figuratively. He’s close enough right now that Hux could reach out and kick him with a foot, tap a suede-covered toe against Ren’s muscular shoulders -- but he won’t. He doesn’t need to; it’s knowing that he _could_ , if he wanted to, that’s enough.

Ren appears to get the hint. He falls into a state of somewhat meditation: eyes closed and breathing deep, focused in upon himself instead of the world around him. Despite all of his blustering and theatrics, Ren actually seems rather attuned to Hux’s unspoken feelings and wishes. Ren has the emotional maturity of a toddler and the personal depth of a kiddie pool, but somehow he always manages to surprise Hux just enough times that it leaves Hux unsure exactly what Ren will do in any given situation. Hux has settled on expecting the worst, and being pleasantly surprised more than half of the time. It works out -- and doesn’t create any unnecessary emotional labor on his part.

It still never accounts for Ren’s tantrums, which are wholly unpredictable and embarrassing to be anywhere near, but Hux has never expected nor gotten much in acquaintances in the past, so it’s really par for the course. As long as Ren leaves him alone when he truly wants to be left alone, Hux has resigned himself on waiting out the tantrums from a safe distance, only showing his disapproval through a well-practiced stare.

The whole thing is very unspoken, but Hux gets the distinct impression that Ren appreciates the lack of verbal disdain. He figures Ren has gotten enough of that in the past, with all of his outbursts and -- everything. Hux has too, for all its worth.

They fall into something akin to companionable silence and Ren seems content to let it lie.

Hux immerses himself in his work, and Ren -- does whatever it is that Ren does, but quietly.

Crisp, multi-colored leaves fall around them from tall oaks. The soft touch of each leaf hitting the ground fades into the background, combining pleasantly with the easy chattering of birds and the distant hum of college life around them. It sounds distinctly like autumn.

The breeze shifts, a cold front coming in from the west, and it’s only then that Hux realizes just how long they have been sitting, quiet in each other’s company. Despite the sudden shiver running down his spine, Hux is _relaxed;_ the tension has slipped from his shoulders and his breathing is low and slow -- probably something near to Ren’s, if he’s being that honest or observant.

Hux closes his computer, looks up at the blue sky, and stretches. He’d prefer the dismal grey of autumn, but he appreciates the nice weather nonetheless.

“You -- have a leaf in your hair,” Ren’s words startle Hux out of his contemplation. He has a low voice, strangely melodic and never too harsh. It’s constantly surprising, just how un-grating Hux finds it, how not-terrible he finds Ren in general. He also tries not to think about that too much, either.

“Oh,” Hux says, looking down at Ren. He’s half perched up on one of his elbows, and his other hand is in the air, reaching out to Hux like he’s close enough to brush the leaf from Hux’s hair. He’s not even remotely close enough, and Hux wouldn’t allow it anyway -- but there’s something endearing about the gesture. About how thoughtless, how second-nature it is.

He’s starting to get used to Ren’s presence around him. It’s far too dangerous.

But it’s also somewhat indulgent. And Hux hasn’t indulged in anything in a very long time. It’s not necessarily that he _deserves_ it -- but he kind of does.

Hux brushes his hands over his hair, ruffling it to get said leaf dislodged. Ren laughs, a soft noise that fades into the autumn wind.

“No,” Ren says, “it’s -- just,” he gestures in the least helpful way possible and Hux snorts in disdain. More rustling doesn’t seem to quiet Ren, which means the leaf is still in his hair. “Just there,” Ren points again, somewhere into the air with a laugh. “No -- Hux, you’re missing it.”

Hux wrinkles his nose and Ren muffles something that sounds like a choked laugh.

“Come here,” Before Hux can really register it happening, Ren is in his space. _Come here_ , like Hux even had to move at all; the monster of a man came to him. Ren is in front of him on his knees, thick thighs pressed up against the adirondack chair. It’s truly unfair: even on his knees, Ren seems to tower over Hux. Ren presses into his space, but it’s far from ominous like it should be. His movements are careful and gentle, and despite the fact that he is close enough that Hux can feel the heat radiating off of him, Ren is careful to not even touch an inch of him. It should be impossible, for someone to be this close, close enough that Hux can smell cedar and soap and fresh cut grass, and not be touching him -- but Ren somehow manages it.

Really, Hux should maybe give Ren more credit.

Ren leans over him, giving Hux a good view of just how threadbare his Darth Vader shirt is as it’s stretched over his muscular chest. He must spend at least an hour in the gym every day. That’s quite a bit of a commitment.

Hux is pretty sure he can hear his own heartbeat in his ears, but it’s got nothing on the way he’s focusing on Ren’s steady breathing. He puffs out a breath right in Hux’s ear and Hux shivers. Then, Ren leans back slightly, though he’s still firmly in Hux’s space.

The thought of pushing him away is _there_ , but Hux doesn’t do it. Isn’t quite ready. -- Which is dumb. It’s _so dumb_.

Ren is nowhere near to _at-arms-distance._

“Here you go,” Ren says, seemingly unflustered by any of this. Unlike Hux. Completely unlike Hux. Ren is always so calm, unphased by the world, when he’s not throwing a tantrum -- it’s baffling. Ren presents the offending leaf like a present, held between his middle and forefingers, a bit like a cigarette. Hux wonders if Ren smokes. Not that Hux cares, because Ren is an acquaintance.

“It’s a ginkgo leaf,” Ren says, like Hux cares, like Hux hadn’t just  been imagining Ren accompanying him on his nightly strolls down the campus walk, each of them smoking a cigarette. The smoke would waft up to the trees, to the stars. Hux shouldn’t smoke, but he does anyway. Ren’s probably too fitness-conscious to smoke, to do anything detrimental to his health other than throw the occasional temper-tantrum.

“Oh,” Hux says.

“Ginkgo has medical properties. It’s supposed to be very good for you, for cognitive function, I think.”

“I don’t think there’s any substantive proof of that, Ren.”

“You never know.”

Hux makes a noise, neither here nor there. He’s not having this fight with Ren. He’s _certainly_ not having this fight with Ren while he’s still so close that Hux can feel the heat radiating off him. He can barely think straight, much less form any sort of coherent argument.

For a moment, Ren leans closer, hovering so close to Hux that he thinks that Ren may just close the gap between them. It would be so easy, right now -- he can imagine how the other man tastes, can picture just how warm his lips are, if either of them were to press forward with a kiss. It wouldn’t even surprise Hux -- in fact, it might just fill in the missing piece of the puzzle that is _Ren_. It would explain some things, maybe, like why Ren follows him around like a shadow.

It doesn’t explain why Ren just looks at him for a long moment, and then pulls back, settling on his knees. He’s still close. Hux could lean forward and kiss him. He could reach forward and grab Ren by the hair and pull. He could also put his hands on Ren’s shoulders and push him away, away for good.

Instead, Hux does nothing. He simply continues to stare, to look from Ren’s eyes, to his nose, to his lips -- and back again.

“Here,” Ren says, and tucks the yellow leaf behind Hux’s ear. “For luck. And health.”

It’s not lucky. It’s ridiculous. It’s dumb. It’s Ren being stupidly sentimental about a dead leaf.

“Okay,” Hux says dubiously.

Ren smiles, his grin wide and toothy and far too big for his face. He seems completely undisturbed by all of this. Perhaps he hadn’t felt any of the awkwardness Hux had only moments before. Any apprehension. Any anxiety. It’s not really fair -- but it’s also not really surprising, either. Of course Ren wouldn’t feel the keen rush of awkwardness like Hux does. With all his tantrums, all his posturing -- there’s simply no space for it. There’s only space inside Ren for himself, not for the judgement of others.

For a long, brief moment, Hux cannot help the surge of jealousy that rises up in him. It’s strong and acrid, painful even. It’s not _fair_. It’s not fair that he has to live with the judgements of others resting heavily on his shoulders when Ren, already stronger, can just shrug them off with ease. Like water off a duck’s back.

Ren looks pleased with his work. Hux can only imagine how ridiculous he looks, gold leaf against his red hair, not to mention with Ren on his knees in front of him. Anyone walking past would probably assume that they are together -- if not in a relationship, then close friends.

But they’re not.

They’re barely acquaintances, and the thought has Hux plucking the leaf from behind his ear after far too long to toss it on the ground, with all the other leaves.

Ren, seemingly unaffected, just laughs. “You know what’s the best thing about autumn, Hux?”

Hux raises an eyebrow, knowing he doesn’t need to respond to get the answer; Ren’s going to tell him anyway. At this point, Hux just wants to go back to his dorm, finish up his homework, and call it a day. Instead, he’s stuck in this chair, with an ever-shifting breeze, with crisp leaves and even crisper air -- with Ren. It could be worse, he supposes.

“Halloween.”

“You _would_ love Halloween.” It’s so unsurprising that Hux is baffled Ren even had to say it out loud. There’s not much about Halloween that wouldn’t appeal to Ren, not that Hux can think of, anyway. “Is your favorite movie _Nightmare Before Christmas,_ too?”

It’s a dig, but Ren only laughs like it’s a friendly joke. His laughter is toothy and wide and warm, his whole face bright with it. “Jeez, Hux. Shut up. No, it’s -- hold on --” Ren pulls his bag toward himself and begins digging around inside of it.

“How do you even find anything in that mess?” Hux muses as his eyes fall on a half-eaten poptart. God knows if it’s fresh or week-old. Could be either. Could be both, somehow.

Ren doesn’t answer, he just keeps digging until he finds what he’s looking for. With an unsurprising amount of dramatic flair he foists himself up onto one knee and kneels in front of Hux. With a dawning sort of horror, Hux realizes that it half looks like Ren is proposing.

“Hux, my love,” _Dead god, he is,_ Hux thinks, _How did this happen to me?_ “Will you take my hand in marriage so that we can rule the galaxy together, forever?”

Ren’s palm is open to the sky, and there is a single Hershey kiss sitting smack in the middle of it. A small, silver offering. It glints in the sunlight. The sight of it shouldn’t make Hux’s heart skip, but it _does_. And that, in and of itself, is entirely unfair. And also absurd.

When it takes too long for Hux to answer because he is simply staring at that one confounded piece of foil-wrapped chocolate, Ren speaks again: “So, what'll it be, General? Will you make me the happiest Sith Lord, this side of the galaxy?”

Hux’s face heats up. He can feel his cheeks reddening. He blames the wind. The cold. 

It’s just a kiss.

Just a joke.

A laugh between Ren and -- someone Ren thinks is his friend.

“I’m really more of a Star Trek guy, Ren.” He’s not. Hux likes them both equally, but he knows that it’ll upset Ren, with his seven Darth Vader shirts and his yearning to be a Sith Lord in another life.

Hux snags the kiss off of Ren’s hand anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to [kyluxtrashcompactor](http://kyluxtrashcompactor.tumblr.com/) for the last minute beta!
> 
> this is part one in what will be a series of softer kylux moments -- a moderately new thing for me.
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](http://brawlite.tumblr.com), if you are so inclined.


End file.
